


Water

by 0WritersBlock0



Series: An Elemental Love Story [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love, M/M, Protectiveness, Scaring Hateful Hoes, Symbolism, Water, god is a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 07:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0WritersBlock0/pseuds/0WritersBlock0





	Water

Their love toils and twists and beats beach-ridden rocks into submission and carves cliffs from empty earth. It courses through massive forests and sculpts canyons out of dead rock. It overwhelms and engulfs all in sight, a tsunami crashing over the land as people scramble for safety. 

It breaks away rough boulders into smooth pebbles slowly, over millions of years, over and over it presses onto the shore with its delightful power. It forces paint strokes into mountain sides and morphs the land to fit its desires and expectations. It levels cities and fells civilizations, burying all who opposite it with undeniable, unrelenting dominance. 

They are as eternal as the Sun, their love smashing away at the barriers holding them apart. Just as the tide rips into the earth, tearing at the sand and rocks preventing it from reaching green grasses and warm hills, their love presses into the boundaries of society and their homes, forcing Hell and Heaven to bend to their will under God’s delicate and watchful hand. They churn and test the limits of everything standing in their path towards pure contentment beside one another. 

Sometimes they choose to remain soft and small, residing peacefully in their microcosm as though the entire universe condensed to fit into Aziraphale’s cozy bookshop or Crowley’s grand flat. They tut around, reveling in one another’s company and arguing about the trivial in the same sentence. Their love whispers and coos like the low tides, constantly murmuring promises of repetition and joy to the harsh shores. 

Or, they decide that dramatics and theatrical behavior suit them better, filling the lives of their fellow Earth-goers with large declarations of love and intense gifts that would bring even Gabriel to tears. 

The gifts don’t always suit the receiver, but thanks are given in response anyways. When presented with love, any material show of appreciation seems far more grand and beautiful than if presented without love. Their love is sometimes the high tides, shoving all its observers and dissidents under cold water, forcing them to comply with its power and marvel at its intensity. 

They don’t truly care, though. Crowley has spent hundreds of years basking in the light of Aziraphale’s love. And Aziraphale has spent hundreds of years bathing in Earthly pleasures and in Crowley’s presence. The two of them don’t need to give gifts to show appreciation. While Aziraphale does enjoy dinners with Crowley at the Ritz, and while Crowley adores receiving warm hand-knitted blankets and little trinkets from Aziraphale, neither of them cares about the material things. They’re immortal beings with immense power. Their best and most cherished gifts have always involved quiet time in Aziraphale’s shop, each pair of eyes watching one another peacefully as the hours tick by. 

Sometimes music will play in the background, whether or not they intended that particular miracle. Sometimes the birds will sing. Sometimes, even the weather will flourish and give them whatever they subconsciously want, whether it’s soft rains like at the end of a storm or clear nights at the start of summer. 

Their tides rise and fall, just like the tides of the ocean. Except, the tides of their love doesn’t respond to any moon; rather, it rises and falls on its own, pushing and pulling at the angel and demon with all the force and influence of the Almighty. 

Their love even takes the form of coursing rivers and rushing streams that push through the land, cleaving the land in two with constant, unyielding force. They are of soft disposition, warm eyes and saccharine kisses. But they do not bow, they do not yield to anyone or anything, instead living by their own rules and thriving on their own sins. 

Sometimes, a human family will watch in horror as the two beings kiss lightly in public, smiles cloying and innocent. Male though they may appear, their love exceeds human concepts of gender and sex. But the humans don’t know that, so Aziraphale and Crowley keep pushing and attempt to teach acceptance and tolerance to anyone who disapproves of them upon seeing their romantic interactions. 

Of course, they don’t bother to force the teaching if the person is unwilling to try and learn — as the saying goes, ‘You can bring a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.’ 

But they still push. They still aim to ensure that even humanity can learn to love as freely as them. Though, they never intend to teach this lesson for selfish purposes. Humanity needed to love more and hate less. If it took educating the bigots of Earth whenever Aziraphale and Crowley encountered hate towards their love, then that’s what they’d do. 

However, love isn’t all fun and games. Sometimes it’s wrath and anger and fighting. When humans don’t listen to reason, the two glorious beings give lessons by forcing fear into the hearts of the hateful. 

Aziraphale would give a human a taste of his true divine form, smiling coldly as the cruel creature sprinted away with the terror of God’s wrath in her eyes. They couldn’t know that the angel wasn’t there on God’s orders, but that didn’t stop Aziraphale. 

A woman had strolled into the bookshop in search of a specific historic tome containing information about the fall of the Roman Empire. 

Upon arriving at Aziraphale’s desk, she spotted Crowley draping himself over the shop owner’s back while peppering kisses to the fair-haired man’s ears and cheeks. 

She took in Aziraphale’s soft, homely form tucked into layers of cream and white clothes. She also took in Crowley, all angles and lines, showing off his lanky body with a black ensemble of skinny jeans and tight-fitting shirt with a leather jacket on top. Crowley’s long, thin arms curled around Mr. Fell’s fluffy middle, a devilishly sharp chin pressed into a soft shoulder. 

In a flash of white-hot conservative rage, the brunette snarled at the two males, thoroughly scolding Crowley for sexually harassing Mr. Fell and scolding Aziraphale for allowing “that dark sex demon” to touch him so inappropriately. 

Crowley had stumbled backwards away from his companion to stand in the shadows and try to hide from the woman’s judgemental eyes that sought him out in the darkness to let her point out his flaws and bodily improprieties. He bit his lips, trying to avert his gaze from the angry human. He usually paid no heed to humans’ opinions of him, but the reminder of his demonic identity was enough to push him back into his usual state of feeling unworthy of Aziraphale’s love. But Aziraphale did not display any sort of regret or fear response, instead glaring at the woman. His voice filled the room with harsh tonality, despite the softness of his words. Gentle earthy eyes glowed with white wrath. He murmured his rage, his true form peeking through the fabric of reality as the air and light twisted unnaturally to accommodate the power of the heavenly being. (Though, he felt less heavenly than he was before the Not-pocalypse.) 

The woman, petrified from fear, the beginnings of hyperventilation flooding her body with uncontrollable shivering. Her mind could only comprehend so much, and already she felt a migraine coming on as her brain overworked to attempt at understanding the sight before her. The moment her feet functioned normally again, she rushed out of the bookshop faster than a cheetah. 

Aziraphale, having exited his holy rage-fest, hurried to Crowley’s side to soothe the demon’s tears and worries. 

Yes, perhaps their love is like a river, pushing and flowing and unyielding to the influence of others, but it is also the flood, burying cities and blanketing lands with its glory. 

They can swathe entire areas in pure goodwill and joy. Sometimes, when the two eternal beings decide to take a nice stroll through town, explore the park, maybe feed the ducks before going out for lunch, they will give off feelings of love. Animals can usually sense the energies of angels and demons. Babies, because they are as instinctual as non-human animals, can also sense the energies of heavenly and occult beings. So whenever they walk through these large, heavily populated areas, they often radiate feelings of immense affection and love and unfettered _joy _that the more base creatures of Earth can’t help but respond with soft coos and gentle hums and sweet behavior, ensuring that these pretty beings giving off pretty feelings have the best experience while in the animals’ presence. 

It’s not intentional, no. Aziraphale and Crowley simply give off what the hippies would refer to as “really groovin’ vibes”. They will emanate these feelings for hours at a time, often suffocating nature and humanity with their joy and affection. The sensation of this smothering love is not unpleasant. It is gentle, comforting, like the overly-affectionate embrace of a mother towards her children. It presses too hard and chokes people with its force, but it is still love. It still brings them extraordinary joy and gives them renewed love of life. 

Their love leaves people gasping for air, the soft-minded humans unable to comprehend the strength of the adoration between the angel and the demon. Imagine it like a hug from a giant bird. Its wings envelop you, just like the outward appearance of the beings’ love. And then, the bird presses you closer, forcing your face to its chest, in a motion similar to the feeling of being forced to live the experience of seeing their love. And when the bird finally clutches you tight, you feel completely smothered and unable to breathe, just like the feeling of their love completely enveloping you in forceful warmth. 

But this sensation only forms when the two heaven-born beings are showing affection in public. In private, their love is even more smothering and unrelenting. Their friends have had the privilege of knowing how loving they are behind closed doors. Around familiars, Aziraphale and Crowley act much more affectionate. Because they needn’t worry about how they might appear to strangers, they show love much more freely, offering kisses and hugs as often as they want. They concern themselves much more with trying to not forget their friends while they’re in the midst of what some people may refer to as “the honeymoon phase”. 

Of course, their friends feel even more flooded by their affection than strangers or other humans. Now, some of them are immune. For example, Adam (whenever he and the other Them visit) is not affected by the waves of love radiating from Aziraphale and Crowley because of his sheer power alone. Anathema, on the other hand, experiences severe headaches and sneezing fits from the sight of their auras — usually, they take on a bright magenta — and powerful magic coming off of them. The normal humans pick up on the waves of love with a kind of confusion and euphoria, unable to detect the source of the cogent feelings, but so deeply affected by them that their minds cannot help but join in on the joy. 

The floods do not frighten anyone random, though. The floods frighten those who are overwhelmed by people who cannot handle the sensation of all-encompassing love. But the floods mainly comfort. They mainly press humanity under their depths with their dominating rushes, like the (sometimes) unwelcome embrace of an affectionately assertive aunt. The rivers sometimes terrify people, and the rivers sometimes do not. The rivers scare people who are in the way, people who are barriers in the righteous path of love. The rivers do not frighten people when there exists no hurdle in their path. The tides do not frighten. They simply exist, pressing back and forth eternally, like the flow of time or the gentle rocking of Earth in the cradle of space, like the humming tune God sings when all is well among Her creations. 

Aziraphale and Crowley also simply exist, and also frighten, and also embrace. They love like the hand of God, warm and strong and unmoving in the face of anything. 


End file.
